Come to send, not condescendTranscendental consequenceIs to transcend where we areWho are we? Who we areTrampled moss on your soulsChanges all you're a partSeen it all, not at allCan't defend fucked up manTake me a for a ride before we leave...Circumstance, clapping handsDriving winds, happenstanceOff the track, in the mudThat's the moss in the aforementioned verseJust a little time, before we leave...Stop light plays it's partSo I would say you've got a partWhat's your part? Who you areYou are who, who you are